The Thought That Counts
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Oneshot Angel and Collins fic. How far would you go to make your loved one happy? Pure fluff.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel and Collins are both the creaton of Jonathan Larson. I'm just borrowing them.

* * *

Collins loved Angel. He loved everything about her. He loved her smile, he loved her eyes, and he loved her body. He loved how big her heart was and that she would gladly give her money to someone she hardly knew than buy herself the new handbag she had been dying to have. He loved how he could spend time with her, talking or just cuddling, and still feel like he was in heaven. Yes, it was pretty safe to say Angel was perfect.

Well, maybe not. There was one flaw Angel had. Not so much a "flaw," but she was lacking in one skill.

Angel could not cook. She could not cook to save her life and Collins didn't have the heart to tell her.

It wasn't too bad because she didn't cook much. Usually they ate out. Still, when she had been flipping through _Cooking Light_ for a while, she began to feel the kitchen calling her. Then, when Collins got home, she'd present him with some pasta dish or some meat dish, which he would choke down with a grin. He would then have to find a way to get rid of any leftovers.

Despite all of this, he loved his Angel. He'd eat a pound of maggots if it made her happy.

It was on a cool Friday in April when he arrived home from a particularly hard day. He entered and right away his nostrils filled with the scent of...something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Angel?"

"In here!" his lover's voice floated from the kitchen. "Don't come in yet!"

Collins removed his jacket, his brow furrowing slightly. What _was_ that smell?

Angel opened the door to the kitchen, running out to hug him. Today, she was wearing a longer brown wig, which was pulled up in a French twist. She had on a 50's style red gingham dress, which hooped out a bit in the skirt. She wore matching red pumps and a white apron with flowers embroidered on it. "I'm so happy you're home!" she squealed with delight. "I have the biggest surprise for you!"

Collins grinned, wrapping his arms around her, savoring her feeling and her smell. Only she didn't smell as she usually did. Mixed in with the aroma of her perfumer was a distinct smell of...well...of baking. Releasing her from the embrace, he stepped back and examined her outfit, stopping at the apron. The apron, which he knew to be crisp and clean, had smudges on it and they looked new. "Angel, honey, what have you been doing all day?" he asked, a bout of fear rising slightly within him.

She smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "That's part of the surprise!" A bell dinged in the kitchen. "Oh! That's the...I have to get that!" With a quick peck on the cheek, she hurried back in, calling out to him not to come into the kitchen.

Collins was worried. Collins was _very_ worried.

His deepest fears were recognized when the kitchen door flew open, revealing Angel, with oven mitts, holding what looked to be like a pie. "It's still a bit hot, but I think it should cool quickly."

Collins peered at it. It looked a bit green on the top. Was it supposed to look green? Also, the edges looked burnt. He chose his words carefully. "Oh, sweetie...you shouldn't have..."

"Oh, I know. But I was looking through a magazine and saw something about the Donna Reed show and thought, 'Now that's a true woman's role model.' I wanted to make something special tonight for you. It's called Apple Pie Supreme or something."

Collins was silent for a moment. "It looks delicious, sweetie."

The smile that spread over Angel's face was more than enough to make up for his lie. She shoved him into a chair gently. "I'll go get a knife and plate," she explained, placing the pie onto the coffee table.

Collins studied the pie. Perhaps it would be possible to hide it? But where? _Under the couch?_ Nah. He could throw it out the window. But what excuse could he give for its absence? _A huge hawk flew in and grabbed it Uh...a homeless man jumped in and grabbed it Um...it...I...That is to say..._ His shoulders slumped. He was stuck with that pie and there was nothing he could do about it.

Angel reentered with a plate, a fork, a knife, and, Collins noted thankfully, a glass of beer to wash it down with. She cut a large slice for him and handed it to him. "Now be completely honest!" she told him.

He took the plate and fork with a forced grin and assured her he would. He dug his fork into the tiniest portion he could manage and stuck it in his mouth. He almost gagged. Not only was a portion of the crust burnt, but the apples inside had somehow ended up half frozen. Not to mention, there was way to much salt in it. He gulped it down and took a swig of the beer to remove the foul taste. Angel looked hopeful. "That," he began, hesitating slightly, "uh, that was just wonderful. Really, honey."

Angel clapped her hands together in delight. "I wasn't sure. It said only to use a teaspoon of salt, but I didn't think that was very much, so I used more..." Angel continued talking about how she made it while Collins ate the rest of his portion, trying not to listen to her. The less he knew the better.

He scrapped the last of it into his mouth, placing his empty plate on the table. "Angel, you worked so hard today. Why don't you sit down while I put the pie away for later?" _I'll throw it away tonight. I'll say I got really hungry in the middle of the night and ate the rest of it._ Angel got comfortable on the couch and Collins, glad to have a plan formulated, placed the pie in the refrigerator.

Despite the awful taste still resting in his mouth, he wasn't angry at his Angel. She was trying to please him. Besides, it was the thought that counted, right? He re-entered the living room and saw his love sitting pretty just waiting for him.

Yes, it was the thought that counted.

* * *

The next morning Angel woke in the arms of her lover. Careful not to wake him, she pulled herself from the bed and tip-toed into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she was less than surprised to see the pie tin missing. She was even less surprised to see it buried under a load of garbage in the trash can.

She had to smile. She knew. How couldn't she? She had tasted her own cooking. It was awful. He had never noticed, but every time she cooked something she didn't eat it. She knew he didn't like it, but he pretended to. That's what she liked, that he cared enough about her to lie if it meant sparing her feelings. Not that she would care if he admitted he didn't like her food, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"What are you smiling about?" A groggy Collins entered, shirtless.

"Oh, nothing," Angel said, wrapping around him and kissing him lightly on the lips.

"I meant to tell you," he began, "I got really hungry last night and when I came down stairs, the only thing I could find was your pie..."

She smiled knowingly as he explained why the pie was missing.

Yes, it was the thought that counted.

* * *

So this is the first Rent fic I have ever written in my entire life. I write mostly Newsies fics. I've been a fan of Rent for a long time (longer than I have been for Newsies) but I never got into actually writing the fanfiction. illcoveryou, a livejournal community promoting Collins/Angel and Jesse/Wilson fics had a contest in which we had to write a fic with Collins, Angel, and a pie. This was the result, and for it I won First Place as well as the Mod's Choice title. I look forward to writing more Rent fics, so any and all concrit is welcome. 


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